Part 24 (1/2)
But with Carolina absorbed in her work, and Moultrie puzzling over the sudden changes in her behaviour, it could not be said that the remainder of the ride was proving as pleasant as each had hoped. However, a perfect day, a fine animal, and the spirits of youth and enthusiasm are not to be ignored for long, and presently Carolina began to feel Guildford in the air. She looked inquiringly at Moultrie, and he answered briefly:
”In another mile.” But there was a look in his eyes which made Carolina's heart beat, for it was the glance of comprehension which one soul flings to another in pa.s.sing,--sometimes never to meet again, sometimes which leads to mating.
In another five minutes Moultrie raised his arm.
”There!”
Carolina reined in and Araby stood, tossing her slim head, raising her hoofs, champing her bit, and snuffing at the breeze which came to her red nostrils, laden with the breath of piny woods and balsam. Moultrie, sitting at parade rest on Scintilla and watching Carolina catch her breath almost with a sob, said to himself: ”She feels just as that horse acts.”
Carolina could find no words, nor did she dare trust herself. She was afraid she would break down. She lifted her gauntleted hand and the horses drew together and moved forward.
For more than a mile an avenue as wide as a boulevard led in a straight line, lined on each side by giant live-oaks. Ragged, unkempt shrubbery, the neglect of a lifetime, destroyed the perfectness of the avenue, but the majesty of those monarchs of trees could not be marred. The sun was only about an hour high, and the rays came slantingly across meadows whose very gra.s.ses spoke of fertility and richness. The glint of the river occasionally flashed across their vision, and between the bird-notes, in the absolute stillness, came the whispering of the distant tide.
At the end of the avenue lay the ruined stones of Guildford.
Carolina sprang down, flung her bridle-rein to Moultrie, and ran forward. She would not let him see her eyes. But she stumbled once, and by that he knew that she was crying. They were, however, tears of joy and thanksgiving. Guildford! Her foot was on its precious turf.
These stones had once been her father's home. And she was free, young, strong, and empowered to build it up, a monument to the memory of her ancestors. Every word which Mrs. G.o.ddard had prophesied had come true, and Carolina's first thought was a repet.i.tion of her words:
”See what Divine Love hath wrought!”
When she came back, instead of a tear-stained face, Moultrie saw one of such radiance that her beauty seemed dazzling. Where could be found such tints of colouring, such luminous depths in eyes, such tendrils of curling hair, such a flash of teeth, such vivid lips, and such a speaking smile? As he bent to receive her foot in his hand, he trembled through all his frame, and, as he felt her light spring to her mare's back, he would not have been at all surprised to discover that she had simply floated upward and vanished from his earthly sight to join her winged kindred. But, as she gathered up her reins and watched him mount, it was a very businesslike angel who spoke to him, and one whose brain, if the truth must be told, was full of turpentine.
”Now, let's explore,” she said. ”I have paid my respects to the shrine of my forefathers, now let's see what I have to sell my turpentine farmers.”
”Your what?” asked the man, with the amused smile a man saves for the pretty woman who talks business.
”I am going to sell the orchard turpentine rights of Guildford to get money for building,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
”And I was thinking of you in a white robe playing a harp!” he said, with a groan.
”I often wear a white robe, and I play a harp quite commendably, considering that I have studied it since I was nine years old, but when I am working, I don't wear my wings. They get in my way.”
Carolina by instinct rode to an elevation which commanded a view of the pine forests of Guildford.
”How much do I own?” she asked.
”As far as you can see in that direction. Over here your property runs into ours just where you see that broad gap.”
”Why don't you rebuild Sunnymede?”
”No money!” he said, with a shrug.
”You have plenty of fallen timber and acres of stumpage to sell to the patent turpentine people.”
”I don't know. I have never heard it discussed. We wouldn't sell to Yankees. We feel that we wouldn't have come to grief with the terrapin affair if we had been dealing with Southerners.”
”Who are there to discuss? Who owns it with you?” asked Carolina, calmly ignoring the absurdity of his remarks.
”My brother and sister--” He paused abruptly, and then said: ”You are sure to hear it from others, so I will tell you myself. The La Grange family skeleton shall be shown to you by no less a hand than my own! My brother has made a very--I hardly know what to call it. It is an unfortunate marriage, since no one knows who the girl is. When you saw me in New York, I was hoping to prevent their marriage, but it was too late. They had eloped and had been married immediately on arriving in New York. As soon as her aunt, with whom she lived, learned that Flower had eloped with my brother, she sent for me. She had been a great invalid, and the excitement had upset her so that when I arrived she looked as if she had not an hour to live. She caught me by the arm and said: 'Flower must not marry a La Grange. She is not my niece nor any relative of mine. Her mother was--' and with that her speech failed.
She struggled as I never saw a being struggle to speak the one word more,--the one word needful,--and, failing, she fell back against her pillow--dead!”